Pineapples on a Plane
by Nighthawk-Moonshadow
Summary: Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Carlton, and a plane full of angry snakes. Let the fun begin. SoaP crossover, originally posted at LJ, Shawn/Lassiter with some Gus/Juliet
1. Chapter 1

"Welcome to Honolulu International Airport. The current time is ten twenty-nine am. Thank you for riding Trans-Atlantic Airlines, and please enjoy your stay in the beautiful state of Hawaii. Aloha!"

The brown-haired man in 14C gripped the armrest next to him and wiggled in his seat, staring out of the small, round window to look at the horizon past the tarmac, lined with palm trees and other tropical plants. He pressed his nose to the glass, eyes widening like a child's and zooming all over the place, trying to take in as much as he could see through the tiny opening. God, he so wanted out of this plane! They had been flying all day, first an hour flight from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles, and then four hours to Honolulu!

So really, if Shawn didn't get out of this plane in the next five seconds, he was going to go nuts. His iPod had only quieted him for the first flight, Whitesnake and the Ramones only being a temporary cure. So when they left LAX, he'd spent the next four hours fidgeting anxiously, memorizing the entire layout of the plane (which sadly, only took a good fifteen minutes), tapping beats on the seat in front of him (it was empty, luckily for the poor sap who would've been sitting there), and getting sharp looks from the person sitting next to him.

That person, Burton Guster, Gus as he was known, and 'GusGus' when Shawn felt particularly snippy, had been trying his very best not to strangle Shawn for the past four hours. Shawn had stolen his Sudoku puzzle book (memorizing the answers in the back and then snickering at Gus when he attempted to solve them); he had flirted with every single stewardess (and steward), taking over Gus's personal space to do so, and had decided to spend a good half hour at one point explaining (yet again) the virtues of the pineapple, causing the person sitting next to Gus to shoot them a few paranoid looks.

"Oooo, GusGus, look! Hawaiian palm trees! You don't get those back home."

"Shawn, there are thousands of palm trees in California!"

"Not _Hawaiian_ palm trees though." He turned away from the window, giving Gus an imploring look. "Can we get out now?"

"Calm down, Shawn. We've got to taxi into the airport first, and they said there's a line of planes waiting to do so."

Shawn slumped back into his seat, groaning and pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'm going crazy here. I've gotta do something…"

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head, and he grinned.

"Where's Lassi-face?" he asked, unbuckling his belt and turning to kneel on the seat, looking over the rows behind him. He felt a yank on his sleeve, and Gus tugged him back down, shooting him a nasty look.

"You are not letting them know that we're on this plane, Shawn! You're the one who didn't want to tell them we were coming in the first place!"

"That's only because if they knew beforehand about it, they'd probably get us banned from the flights or something."

"Which you almost did anyway!"

"Pshaw," Shawn said, "I only brought nail clippers with me."

"This is 2007! Do you not watch the news? I'm going to have to start forcing you to watch CNN with me again, aren't I?"

"You do that Gus. I'm gonna go say hi to our favorite detective pairing."

"No, Shawn." Shawn opened his mouth to retort, but Gus held a hand up to silence him. "I barely agreed to this plan by the rules we set down. We agreed, Juliet and Lassiter can't see us until the right moment. Otherwise, they may give us the slip."

"Mrh, fine." Shawn flopped back against his seat and folded his arms, pulling his feet up to rest on the top of the seat in front of him. "But if I just happen to have a vision showing Juliet's impending demise, I am going to have to break our plan."

"God, why did I even agree to this?"

"Because you love me?"

"You're the one who thinks they're up to something, how did I get dragged into this?"

"Hey, who the hell goes to Hawaii for a seminar on 'law enforcement techniques!'" Shawn shot back, adding the air quotes for emphasis. "This has got to be some cool case they don't want our help on or something."

"I still say, why the _hell_ would they be investigating _in Hawaii_? Since when did the SBPD have jurisdiction on an island thousands of miles away?"

"I'm sticking with my story, despite the lack of credible evidence. I'm a psychic, I can feel these sorts of things! Besides, you _did _have the option of saying no."

"You would've found some way to get me to go anyway," Gus said, shaking his head sadly. "I figured that I could at least take your first offer and get a free trip to Hawaii and your pineapple pancake recipe out of it."

"Which, by the way, you will never be able to perfectly recreate on your own."

"Maybe not me, but I know a couple of people who might be able to."

'Hey, that is a beloved secret family recipe!"

"Then why did you give it to me?"

"Aw, Gussy, you _are_ part of my family! Don't you feel so loved?"

"I think the word I'm looking for is appalled."

"Har har. You should feel privileged. Think about it, Burton Spencer! BS! Oooo, Gus, I think I found you a new nickname!"

If Gus didn't get off of this plane in the next five seconds, he was going to go nuts.

()

Gus spotted the two detectives first, outside of the airport entrance. Juliet was dressed in a silky blue skirt and blouse combo; while Lassiter had on a yellow Hawaiian shirt and baggy canvas shorts. Despite their attempts to look 'touristy,' Gus had a feeling they weren't thinking about what beaches to hit first.

"Okay, Gus, if those two decide to ever try a relationship, let's promise to send them here for their honeymoon, cause they're obviously gonna miss out enjoying this trip." Shawn swung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed Gus's arm, scooting them over to a waiting taxi. After loading their stuff in to the trunk, Shawn told the driver to follow the taxi the detectives had gotten into (reassuring the man that no, they were not crazy murderous stalkers, just the normal type of stalkers, which the man seemingly had no problem with escorting).

They first followed the detectives to the hotel, checking in moments after the two had left the lobby (Shawn had found out all the information about their accommodations beforehand, so even if they did lose track of the pair, they wouldn't be clueless.) They'd reserved rooms in the same hotel, and Shawn ran upstairs to throw their luggage in the room, making Gus keep watch to make sure the detectives didn't leave without them knowing.

Shawn made it back to the taxi not a moment too soon. Juliet and Lassiter exited the hotel a few minutes later, and Shawn and Gus followed the two into the main part of town, getting dropped off a block away.

The next few hours were spent tailing the two, ducking in and out of shops and ignoring the odd looks they got from people walking near them. They followed the detectives to a coffee shop, a few stores, and a tourist bureau, always staying a few steps behind the pair.

After a while, Shawn was beginning to get antsy. The detectives' 'seminar' was supposed to take place sometime on the first day of the trip; that he was sure of. But they didn't seem to be heading to any convention centers or those sorts of things. Until…

"Ahah!" Shawn shouted, spotting the building the two were heading to next. It was definitely a police station, and Shawn's crackpot theory of an investigation seemed to have gained some credit. "Let's go!" Shawn cried, grabbing Gus by the arm and yanking him towards the station.

"Shawn, shouldn't we wait out here?"

"Hell no! We'll burst in and confront them as they begin to discuss the case!"

"Shawn, I am not causing a scene!"

"Too late. Hah!" Shawn shouted, thudding open the door and stepping inside. A few heads turned as he strode past them, making his way to the small group that Juliet and Lassiter were part of. The two detectives heard the commotion as well, and turned to see Shawn striding towards them, a nervous Gus being towed in his wake. Shawn suppressed the urge to giggle; spotting the nametags the two were wearing and wondering how hard it would be to cross off the 'ter' on Lassiter's.

"S-Spencer?!" Shawn didn't think Lassiter's face could've been any redder. Juliet was staring slack-jawed at them. "Wh- what are you doing here!"

"Oh, you know," Shawn said, finally stopping and pulling Gus to stand beside him. "We were just in the neighborhood, saw you two and thought we'd stop to say hi. How's things? What are you up to?"

"You know what we're doing, Spencer!" Lassiter shouted, grasping clumps of his hair in rage. "We're going to the seminar the chief sent us here for!"

"Oh come on, that cover story is so nineties-Lassiter-esque. You're a millennium man, figure something new out!"

"Is something the problem?" An older, white haired officer was walking over to them, puzzled look on his face. He was dressed in some type of army uniform, and Shawn wondered how he could stand wearing something that heavy in this heat.

"Oh, no, Lieutenant Kimmons, sir," Lassiter sputtered, rage disappearing and being replaced with what Shawn determined was nervous embarrassment. "Nothing's wrong here. We were just saying goodbye to _friends_ of ours," he said, shooting Shawn a dirty look, "before the meeting starts."

"Now come on Lassi, don't be shy," Shawn said, moving next to him to swing an arm around his shoulders. Lassiter glanced at him sharply, looking like he was about to explode. "Carlton here won't tell us what this meeting is about. Would it be horribly rude for me to ask what they're here for?" He gave the Lieutenant a cheery smile, preparing to offer his psychic services as soon as Kimmons mentioned a crime.

"Why of course not. Don't know why Detective… Lassiter," Kimmons said, glancing at Lassiter's nametag, "was so secretive about it. We're holding a seminar with cops around the US to teach them new law enforcement techniques to bring back to their stations. I'm in charge," he said, puffing out his chest proudly. "Setting it in Hawaii and offering free plane travel was my idea. Gives the young detectives here a reason to come." He gave the group a grin, evidently very proud of his accomplishment.

Shawn had a feeling that if Lassiter hadn't been so enraged at the moment, he would be laughing his ass off at Shawn. All the same, he quickly dropped his arm from Lassiter's shoulder, continuing to give Kimmons a smile. "Ah, well Lassi, you should've just told us then! That's nothing to hide!" Oh god, he needed to flee, now, or he would have Lassiter's hands around his throat in three seconds. He could _feel_ the man seething next to him.

"Yes, of course, Shawn," Lassiter ground out, and shit, was his eye _twitching_? "How _silly_ of me. Next time, I'll make sure you know _exactly_ what we're doing."

Kimmons seemed satisfied with this, as he nodded to the group and stepped back. "We're starting in about five minutes; please make your way into the meeting area soon." He smiled at them again and turned, striding away.

Before Lassiter had a chance to lunge at Shawn, he had dived away, grabbing Gus by the shoulders and using him as a shield. "You'll have to go through him to get to me!"

"Hey, I did not agree to this!" Gus sputtered, slightly panicked look on his face.

"You agreed when you agreed to come!"

"Not to be used as your personal anti-Lassiter device!"

"Oh, I'm going to kill _both_ of you, Mr. Guster," Lassiter said, stepping towards them. "But Spencer is going to die first."

A hand reached out, and Juliet was at Lassiter's side the next instant, pulling him back. "Come on, Carlton," she said, giving him a _just drop it_ look. "They really haven't done any harm. Let's just get to the seminar. You two won't bother us again for the rest of the trip, isn't that right Shawn?" she said, shooting him an expression of annoyance.

Shawn peeked over Gus's shoulder and nodded quickly. "We'll keep out of your way, Scout's honor. Just let us leave the island with all limbs intact."

Lassiter took a deep breath and nodded his head. "I don't want to see either of you again while we're here," he said, jabbing a finger against Gus's chest. "Are we clear?"

Both men nodded this time. Lassiter pulled back, shooting Shawn one last look of rage, and the two detectives turned, joining a crowd heading into a large conference room in front of them.

"Good thing Jules was here, or we'd be dead by now, huh?"

"Oh you're going to die Shawn, but I'm going to be the one to kill you."

"Gus?"

"You get five seconds head start."

"Really not that funny, dude."

"Five, four-"

Shawn was out the door before Gus hit three.


	2. Chapter 2

So maybe Shawn had made Gus travel across the Pacific Ocean to a tiny island state for nothing. But hey, while they were there, they could enjoy it. Gus promised Shawn that he wouldn't kill him if Shawn would just let him enjoy the island in his own way. Shawn happily agreed; he had a feeling Gus would be a bit of a drag on what he planned to do to enjoy the island life.

The second day there, Shawn spent with a rented surfboard and a female instructor. He'd done a little bit of surfing; living by the coast meant you'd do it sooner or later. But he wasn't about to pass up on flirting with the very 'able-bodied' woman for several hours, using the 'I'm a clumsy newbie, help me!' routine (of course, sometimes he really _did_ mess up; he wasn't an expert at it after all).

Gus, meanwhile spent his time touring various historical sites and learning about Hawaiian culture. He spent the first night in their hotel room blabbing to Shawn about all he'd learned, and perking Shawn's interest after showing him a picture from a reference book about 'Hawaii's last queen' (Shawn then spent the next hour continually asking Gus to repeat how her name was pronounced. "Liliouo-wha?")

As to Lassiter and Juliet, Gus and Shawn managed to keep away from them in the hotel. Shawn once bumped into Juliet alone on the elevator, prompting her to press the emergency stop button and question him for a good ten minutes about what the hell he thought he was doing by following them (though most of her anger came from having to deal with the still pissed-off Lassiter).

"Really, Shawn, Vick sent him here to take a _break_, not have you bust his chops. She's worried that he's going to have a hernia or something. Give the guy a break, okay?"

Well, it wasn't like Shawn wanted to _kill_ Lassiter. He could be fun at times, and was admittedly a prime member of the human race, tall, built, strong Irish features… and Shawn usually had to start beating his brain against the wall whenever his mind wandered into that odd little place. God, and Jules was worried about _him_ killing _Lassiter_? She should've been more worried about the opposite happening.

The fourth day had Shawn waking at a modestly early (for him, at least) nine am to head down to a local motorcycle rental shop. It was their last full day on the island, and he wanted to spend it exploring the Hawaiian landscape. After getting a few maps that told of good sight seeing spots, he rented a small, speedy bike, similar to his own back home, and headed out onto the open road.

_If Jules wants Lassi to relax_, he thought at one point while speeding down a road that curved on a cliff overlooking the open ocean, _she should get him to come out and see this._ The sights were magnificent, and Shawn cursed his stupidity for not bringing a camera. Maybe he could go back and get one from the gift shop… but then he laughed to himself, realizing that with his memory, who needed a camera?

Around two in the afternoon, he pulled off into a secluded, shady area, deciding to take a break and find a place for lunch. Parking the bike, he trudged about fifty feet through some foliage and came face to face with a low hanging bridge, mostly blocked from sight by the trees around it; only the bottom wood piece visible, sticking out over the road.

Shawn was deciding whether to eat under or on top of the bridge when he noticed noises coming from above him. The next second, he gave a gasp as something fell through the air in front of him, stopping suddenly and hanging in the open air.

It was a man, dressed in a torn business suit, and hanging upside-down from a rope around his legs. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his eyes were wide in fear. Shawn gaped at him for a moment, unable to speak, before croaking out, "Odd place to be bungee jumping, isn't it?"

The man reached out, gripping Shawn's shirt with dirt covered hands. "Get out of here, you idiot!" he gasped. "Don't let them see you!"

"Is this some island kid's idea of a prank? Seems kinda mean to me."

"Go!" He shook Shawn's shirt harshly, pushing him away. "Please, leave! I'm begging you!" Shawn couldn't deny the overload of fear in the man's eyes, and it was starting to make him very nervous.

He gave the man a quick, guilty nod before turning and jogging back into the foliage. Instead of disappearing completely, however, he hid behind a few trees, watching the scene before him.

Around half a minute later, three men of Asian descent appeared, the two on the sides carrying bats, and the one in the middle, a gun. Shawn's heartbeat sped up rapidly; this was obviously no prank.

The man in the middle stepped up and grasped the hanging man by the shirt, leaning down to look him in the face. "It's quite unfortunate how this whole matter turned out," he said, a sickeningly serene smile on his face despite the current situation. "If only you'd listened to me."

The hanging man seemed to have gained some confidence from somewhere. "I did what I was supposed to, Eddie. I wasn't going to let you away with your crimes. You can rot in hell for all I care."

The middle man, apparently called Eddie, tsked the man and shook his head. "It's a shame then. I had hopes. Oh well. Goodbye, Mr. Levinston." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.

Shawn watched in horror as the two men with Eddie stepped forward, raising their bats. They began to smash them into the hanging man's body and face, and Shawn had to bite his tongue to stop from crying out at the horrid sounds of crunching bones and the man's screams. Finally, the men stepped away, and Eddie raised the gun. Shawn couldn't tear his eyes away. Oh god, he was going to-

A gunshot rang out, and the hanging man was no more.

Shawn couldn't think, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything, he was paralyzed in shock. But his body decided to control itself, and he found himself backing away slowly and turning, running back to his bike as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the jungle crunched underfoot, and as he sped away, he heard the sounds of running footsteps. He let out a yelp as gunshots rang out behind him, but he was far gone by that time, and the foliage gave him cover.

Shawn's heart was going at a million miles an hour. He'd just witnessed a _murder_, and the crooks had seen him. He'd seen the murderers' faces, but they hadn't seen his, but they'd seen his bike, which wasn't his, but they could find out-

Shawn had to stop himself from going on, shaking his head to clear it. The first thing to do was to get back to the hotel in one piece. Then he could figure out his next step. One thing was for sure though. He wouldn't be buying a disposable camera now.

()

"WHAT?"

Gus's initial reaction to Shawn's story wasn't the most helpful. Really, Shawn expected better of his friend; with all the times they'd been involved in cases, this shouldn't have been too shocking. Gus was quick to remind him, however, that he'd never been the actual _witness to the murder_. Gus's reaction to the name of the criminal was even worse; the man literally fainted.

When he came to (helped along with a cup of cold water from Shawn), Gus began to describe the crime life of Eddie Kim. The man was a notorious mobster, on trial in Hawaii (and a few other states) for various murders and other crimes. He was known for being ruthless, tracking down his enemies with cutthroat precision. And now, Gus shrieked, Shawn was on his hit list.

Shawn was quick to remind him that they didn't know who he was, and that they'd have a hard time tracking him down. That calmed Gus down a little, but when Shawn announced that he planned to call the police and report what had happened, Gus almost fainted again. "You are _not_ making it _easier_ for them to find us, you idiot!" he yelled, shaking Shawn by the shoulders.

Eventually, Gus gave in reluctantly, but made Shawn make the call from a payphone down the street. The police officer who picked up the phone at the station took down his name and information, and told him to stay at the hotel so they could get in contact with him later in the evening.

"Now, you see? Was that so hard?" Shawn asked Gus as he put down the phone. "Come on, Gussy. Lighten up. Lassi can't get mad at me for getting involved in police business now! They _need_ me!"

He heard Gus mutter, "you should be more worried about Lassiter murdering you when he finds out than about Eddie," but Shawn shrugged off the comment. Lassiter couldn't get mad at him for doing something the man would consider _helpful_ to the police, now could he?

They spent the next few hours in the hotel, watching TV and waiting for the police to call them back. When a news flash came on, announcing the find of a local prosecutor murdered in the wilderness, Shawn made Gus turn the TV off. A bad feeling was settling over him about the situation, and he was starting to wonder if he should've kept his mouth shut.

Shawn was mulling by the balcony door, and Gus was reading on the bed when Shawn heard a faint whirring noise from outside the hotel room door. He walked over, peeking into the peep hole for a moment and jumping back in shock the next.

Eddie's two cronies that he had seen in the wilderness were standing outside his door, apparently trying to break in. Now Shawn could see the screws on his door handle slowly being turned, and he knew that the handle would be off in a few moments. Panic shot through him, and he turned to Gus, who was quirking an eyebrow at him.

Shawn pressed a finger to his lips and walked over, yanking Gus off the bed and over to the balcony door. He quietly rolled open the glass, pulling Gus out onto the balcony with him. But before they could move, Shawn felt something grasp his collar, and he was yanked to the side.

He and Gus both let out a light yelp as they were pulled to the corner of the balcony blocked off from the room by a wall. They spun quickly, finding themselves face to face with a tall, brown-skinned man, wearing a black, leather jacket and running sneakers. "Do as I say, and you two will live," he muttered gruffly, pushing them behind him and moving towards the glass doors, a gun in his hand trained on the room. "Jump over to that roof to your left."

Gus and Shawn both were thinking about the same thing; they had better listen, because there really wasn't a better option at the moment. The sound of gunfire going off in the room motivated them even more, and they climbed onto the railing, jumping to a low hanging building. The man in the leather jacket followed them, jumping down and leading them quickly to the roof entrance. They went down a stairwell and emerged in a back alley, finding a black SUV waiting for them. The man motioned for them to hop in the back.

They quickly jumped in the SUV, finding a man with brown hair and pasty skin occupying the shotgun. "Boys," he said, turning to face them. "I'm Agent Sanders of the FBI, and we've got some explaining to do for you. You're lucky our contacts at the police office alerted us to your call. Eddie tracked you back to the hotel by checking out the motorcycle rental shop you went to today, Mr. Spencer."

As Gus gave him a death glare, Shawn reflected that his dad had warned him that motorcycles would be the death of him. Maybe he _should_ have listened to Henry more often.

()

Shawn watched Agent Sanders walking out of the interrogation room, and gave a sigh, sucking on a lollipop he had fished out of his jeans. The man reminded him of Lassiter; way too uptight and a 'by-the-rules' kind of guy. Really, he should've put a moratorium on how many cops of that nature he knew. And the list should've ended after his dad.

Alright, well, maybe Lassi-face too.

Gus was sitting across from him, face down on the table and hands clasped over the back of his skull. He muttered against the table, muffling his voice slightly. "I think me and Lassiter and Eddie should meet; we've all got the same goal in mind, killing you."

"Hey, witnessing a guy get shot through the head was not on my vacation list; I don't know about you." The scene kept playing over and over in his head, and every time Shawn thought about it, a queasy feeling rose in his chest.

Before Gus could reply, the other agent, the one who had saved them from Eddie's men, Agent Neville Flynn, stepped into the room, closing the door and walking over to the table. They both looked up at him as he leaned his fists on the table, staring off into the distance for a moment.

"Listen to me for a moment," he said, not looking down at them. "You two are in a lot of danger right now. We can offer you protection, but only if Shawn agrees to be a witness for us. I'm urging you to take this offer; I'm more worried about you if you don't testify than if you do." He spoke the last words staring directly at Shawn, giving him a piercing gaze.

"So if I don't do this, Gus is going to have to find a new psychic for the office?"

"Shawn!"

"Alright, alright." Shawn sighed and nodded. "I'll do it. But on one condition…"

()

Shawn was thoroughly enjoying the new deluxe hotel room they had been placed in before Juliet and Lassiter walked in the door.

Even though the room was being guarded by agents in the hallway and on the balcony, they obviously hadn't thought of any internal threats to Shawn's safety. Shawn reflected on the absurdity of this as Juliet and Gus attempted to hold back an enraged Lassiter, who was as red as a tomato and was looking at Shawn like a bull looks at a matador. _I hope to one day look back on this moment and find that I'm still alive to laugh about it._

"Spencer, what the _hell_ were you thinking?" Lassiter yelled at him after calming down enough to not need the others to hold him back. "What does go on in that brain of yours, besides the crackpot belief that you are a psychic!"

Shawn felt the urge to make a crack about Lassiter's disbelief of his gift, but decided that this wasn't the time. "Oh, you know the story, Lassi. Guy goes on a nature ride, guy sees brutal murder by an infamous mobster, guy almost _dies_ in escaping said mobster, guy gets his friends a free ride home by agreeing to be a witness on the condition that his friends get to come home with him."

"OUR TICKETS WERE ALREADY PAID!" …and Lassiter was back to trying to get to Shawn so he could beat the pulp out of him. "WHY WOULD YOU GET YOURSELF INVOLVED IN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!"

Okay, that was going too far. "Yes, because I like putting myself in situations where, did I mention, my _life_ is threatened."

"You do it all the time, Shawn!" Wow, Lassi must've been really pissed, he was using Shawn's first name. Another way in Lassi was like his dad. Oh, that was not a pretty thought… it was best to not think about that comparison _ever_ again.

The argument finally settled down. Lassiter finally stepped back, and pointed angrily at Shawn. "Don't talk to me for the rest of the trip, or you won't be worrying about Eddie killing you."

Wow, Gus was pretty good at predicting Lassi's reactions after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The hotel room they had been set up in had two bedrooms, with two twin beds in each. Gus and Shawn took the first room, and Shawn insisted that Gus sleep closest to the door, so that if Lassiter came in to kill Shawn in his sleep, he wouldn't be in the first targeted bed.

Still, there wasn't much sleeping to be done on Shawn's part. He lay in bed for a good couple of hours after Gus had drifted off, trying to calm his mind. The same image of the murder kept flashing into his head, causing shivers to run down his spine and his heart rate to speed up. Despite the nonchalant attitude he was trying to display, Shawn was scared out of his wits.

Finally, unable to calm himself, he quietly got up and left the room. He went into the living room area and sat on the couch facing the large balcony window, looking over the Honolulu cityscape. Outside, on the balcony, were two agents, facing away from the room and keeping watch.

Shawn curled his legs up to his chest and leaned against the arm of the couch, brooding. He hated times like this, when he felt so unsure, so unprepared for what was going to happen. And really, he understood how his friends felt; angry about being dragged into something so dangerous. But Shawn figured that sticking together was their best bet, and he would be damned if Eddie somehow found out about Lassiter and Juliet and used them against him.

"Spencer?"

Shawn stiffened, glancing to the side to see Lassiter leaning on the frame of his bedroom doorway, dressed in red boxers and a white muscle shirt. _No wonder it's called a muscle shirt_, Shawn thought, eyes roaming over the figure across from him. _Muscles abound_.

"What are you doing out here?"

Shawn quirked his head, tapping his mouth and giving Lassiter a smile. Lassiter sighed and shook his head. "You can speak; I won't bite your head off. Why are you out here?"

"Just… thinkin'" Shawn said, giving a shrug. "I do that sometimes; I think. I probably should do that more often, eh?" He gave Lassiter an earnest grin, hoping he would get the message.

"Shawn…" and there was the seriousness again. Shawn hated seriousness, it was too… serious. He watched Lassiter shuffle around the couch, coming to sit next to him. Lassiter sunk onto the couch, elbows resting on his knees, looking out of the window across from them.

"I… I kind of want to apologize," Lassiter said, looking down and scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I realize that you really didn't try to get any of this to happen. And it's not like you don't have enough to worry about with me berating you."

"It's cool," Shawn said, hating the awkwardness he felt. Lassiter shouldn't have been apologizing to him, it just seemed odd. He usually did deserve to be yelled at anyway, though he wasn't about to let Lassiter know that.

Lassiter glanced up at him, eyes furrowed in thought. "I guess I just go off at people when I worry, and-"

"Wait, worry?" Shawn asked, cutting him off. He shifted his body to face Lassiter, head on his knees, staring down over them at the man. "You were worried… about me?"

"Well, yeah." Jeez, if Lassiter didn't stop going red like that, he was going to turn into a tomato. "I mean," he looked away again, staring down at the floor, "you are a pain in the ass a lot, but I don't want you _dead_. I've never wanted that."

"I'm sure there have been times that you've been pretty close."

Lassiter couldn't help but smile slightly, glancing back up at him. "Close," he said. His face suddenly got very serious. "But I never, ever wanted you dead, or hurt, or anything like that. Damn it, Shawn," he said, sighing, "I think you stress me out more from worrying about what the hell type of crazy thing you're going to do next than from anything else."

"Well, I…" Yeah, Shawn really didn't like serious. He never knew what to say. "I guess I am kind of worried about this whole thing myself. I mean, it's different when the murderer has your own head on the chopping block. I wish I was really a-I mean, I wish I was really getting some psychic vibes or something about this, other than bad ones."

Lassiter either didn't hear the slip of Shawn's tongue, or he chose to ignore it. "I think we're all getting some bad vibes about this," he said. "It doesn't sit right with me, but what can we really do?"

"We could escape on a plane to Brazil," Shawn said, grinning at Lassiter. "We could live in the Amazon and have out our own version of Tarzan. You, obviously, would have to be Jane, as I'm the monkey man here."

Lassiter gave a chuckle, though Shawn thought he heard a little nervousness of some sort behind it. "I'm sure you would have fun swinging in trees and wearing a loincloth," he said. "Though I don't think I'd like stomping around in a dress through the jungle."

They both laughed to themselves, and lapsed back into silence. Shawn smiled, feeling like some of the tension had lifted; he was calmer and more relaxed. He stared across at Lassiter, noting for the hundredth time how deeply blue the man's eyes were, finding them striking in the light coming from the window. A dull ache formed in Shawn's chest, and he wondered quite suddenly if Lassiter liked pineapple pancakes for breakfast, or if he was more of a fruit smoothie man.

A touch on his shoulder and a voice brought him out of his dreaming. "Spencer?"

"Ya huh?"

"We should probably get to sleep; we've got a long trip back home tomorrow."

"Heh, yeah, probably a good idea."

Lassiter stood up, turning to look down at Shawn, waiting for him to stand. Shawn uncurled his legs from the couch and got up, dusting himself off and looking back at Lassiter afterwards.

"Night, Lassi."

He turned and started towards his bedroom.

"Spencer?"

Shawn froze and turned, quirking an eyebrow. Lassiter was looking off to the side, but drew his glance back to Shawn and gave him a little smile.

"O'Hara and I aren't just along for the ride. We're not going to let anything happen to you either; I can promise you that."

Shawn grinned toothily at him. "That's what I guessed. But know that if you get yourself killed, I will kill you… a second time."

Lassiter smiled broadly. "It's a deal." He gave Shawn a firm nod and turned, heading into his room and closing the door.

Finally, _finally_, Shawn was able to fall asleep. He dreamed of surfing on Hawaiian beaches, riding the waves with a familiar blue-eyed man.

()

"Gus. Gus!"

"Nyaahhpples and oranges." Gus jerked his eyes open, lifting his head off of the back of his seat to look around. Shawn was sitting next to him, poking him in the shoulder.

"Come on, we're boarding."

Gus shook himself slightly to wake up and stood, glancing around the terminal. Lassiter was also stretching from an apparent nap, and Juliet was tucking a magazine into her canvas bag. Agents Flynn and Sanders were a little ways off, speaking quietly about something. They turned to the group and motioned for them to follow the agents to the terminal desk.

"So tell me again why there is nobody in this terminal besides us?" Shawn asked, glancing around the empty room. He heard a sigh and looked over at the detectives to his right; Juliet was giggling into her hand, and Lassiter was shaking his head.

"For the hundredth time, Spencer, we're boarding here and then taxiing over to the rest of the passengers for our safety."

"It's the same reason we've got a decoy plane being searched," Agent Sanders said, handing their tickets to the attendant at the counter. "Safety precautions. Everybody thinks we're going on that decoy plane, but we commandeered this plane's first class section at the last second. You all should feel pretty lucky; you'll probably never have all of first class to yourself for the rest of your life."

"Wait," Gus piped, suddenly looking pleased. "All of first class? So we don't have to sit next to each other?" Shawn punched him in the shoulder, having an idea of what Gus was thinking about.

Sanders quirked an eyebrow at the two of them before turning and motioning for the group to go through the boarding hall. Shawn followed, catching the desk attendant staring at them with a harsh look as they passed. He looked back after a moment and spotted the attendant opening his cell phone and scrolling through his contacts list. When he stopped on the contact 'Eddie,' Shawn gave a little gulp.

He had a bad feeling about this.

()

They settled into first class; Shawn took a good ten minutes to finally pick out a perfect seat at a window, only to have Agent Flynn tell him that the agents would prefer to have him sitting in the middle so they could be on both sides of him. Shawn shot Gus a dirty look and flopped down in the seat overlooking the staircase leading up to first class, getting a little happier when he found that he had more leg room than he'd ever had in his life. He lounged lazily, eyes wandering the room and taking in all information about it.

Across from him, on the other side of the spiral staircase, was the entrance to the cockpit. The co-pilots had given them a quick hello, one being a more elderly, serious looking man, the other looking to be in his thirties and wearing a playful smile. Sanders had started talking quietly to them, causing Lassiter to perk an ear towards them (Lassi-face, Shawn had noticed, seemed highly fascinated by anything the agents said or did, and would always attempt to get close enough to hear any whispered conversations).

Meanwhile, Flynn had disappeared down the stairs, apparently wanting to go converse with the flight attendants below. Shawn had given each of the attendants a once-over while they boarded, giving one of them, a pretty blond woman, his most endearing smile. However, Lassiter had chosen this moment to give him a shove from behind, telling him to "stop holding up the line, Spencer." Yeah, tripping over yourself while trying to flirt with a girl wasn't exactly the greatest first impression to give. Stupid Lassi-face and his stupid, oddly perfect timing.

Flynn returned from his trip down the stairs, smile tugging at his face, and Shawn wondered where it had come from. "Good news?" he asked as Flynn sat down in a seat across the aisle. Flynn glanced over and gave him a shrug.

"I think I diffused the 'bomb' that was the flight attendants wanting to shoot us for taking over first class."

"Did somebody say bomb?" Lassiter asked nervously, having not clearly heard the conversation and obviously interpreting their words incorrectly. Shawn shot him a calm smile and shook his head.

"Not a real bomb, Lassi-face. More like an emotional bomb. Chill, we haven't even gotten off the ground and you're already looking to bring in a SWAT team."

Lassiter mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath and looked away, glaring out the window. Shawn grinned at him; Lassiter hadn't been kidding last night about worrying. He would have to get the guy to relax and enjoy the flight somehow.

They taxied over to the terminal where the other passengers were waiting. Shawn listened to the conversations drifting up through the stairwell as the people boarded; some asshole British guy was whining about getting shoved into coach, while a woman asked for a little cup of water for her dog. There were a few children's voices; a familiar gruff man's voice… some rapper he'd heard perhaps? Shawn would have to find a way to go down and investigate later.

Flynn, who had gone back downstairs again, reappeared on the stairwell, carrying flower necklaces in his hands. "Leis," he said, giving a little grin. "Compliments of the airlines. Thought you guys might like a little flavor of the island to leave with."

Shawn bounced out of his seat and took the leis from Flynn. Oh, the flowers were fresh; he could smell a wonderful scent drifting from them. He flung one over his neck, and then started to aim one for Juliet, who shook her head.

"I've got pollen allergies, sorry Shawn," she said, shrugging. Shawn frowned, and then turned to Gus, who also shook his head.

"Nu uh, man. I'm not a flower wearing sort of dude."

"Come on Lassi-face," Shawn said, turning finally to Lassiter. "Don't leave me hanging like the rest of these losers!"

"Not on your life, Spencer," he growled, glaring at the flowers. "I am not being a part of your mini-luau."

Shawn gave a 'hmph' and tossed another lei over his neck before handing the rest back to Flynn. Fine, if his friends didn't want to enjoy the wonderful complementary flowers, he would have to enjoy the flowers for all of them.

He breathed in deeply, watching Flynn walk down the aisle on his left, and grinning as the man plopped the extra flowers in the seat right next to Lassiter. "I'll be back in a moment, have to get in contact with our LA bureau," Flynn said, giving Sanders a look and then winking at Shawn before disappearing into the back.

Lassiter just stared at the flowers, sighed, and reached into his bag for a book.


	4. Chapter 4

The voices from downstairs grew fewer in number, and they heard the cabin door closing, and felt the plane begin to move. The blond-haired stewardess from before appeared on the staircase as Agent Flynn returned and settled into the seat to the left of Shawn's. Shawn's second attempt for the day to shoot the girl a flirty grin succeeded this time, and she smiled back.

"Hi everybody," the girl waved perkily, stepping to the side of the stairs and looking over the group. "I'm Tiffany, one of your flight attendants. If you have any problems on the flight, feel free to come to me about them.

"We're going to begin going over the safety regulations in a moment, so please listen up for the instructions." She stepped to the side, bending over and rummaging behind a wall for a moment. This gave Shawn ample time to check out her ass; Juliet saw him watching and shot Gus a look. He rolled his eyes back at her; this was Shawn, what could they expect? Juliet then motioned with her eyes towards Lassiter, who was frowning at Shawn, and gave Gus a silent giggle, which he returned.

Tiffany stood after a moment, a seat cushion in her hand. There was a ping from the loudspeakers, and the pilots began to go over the safety guideline. As the group watched, Tiffany began to demonstrate what was being said, trying to keep her composure as Shawn made funny faces and tried his hardest to get her to laugh.

When the guidelines ended, she put the cushion away and walked over to him, leaning down slightly. "Sorry, sir," she said, grin on her face. "I'm a professional; you'll have to try harder than that." She winked at him and turned, heading back down the staircase. Shawn watched her go, already thinking up ways to 'try harder.'

"Spencer, could you try to act like an adult at least once in your life?" Lassiter was scowling at Shawn, and he returned it with a shrug.

"Aw, come on Lassi, what would be the fun of that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe learning something that could save our lives?"

Shawn snorted. "Lassi-face, if we go down, I doubt tucking my head between my knees is going to save me from drowning in the ocean."

Gus and Juliet had been laughing the entire time Shawn and Lassiter had been arguing, and now Lassiter shot them an annoyed look. "What's gotten into you two?"

"Nothing, Carlton, nothing," Juliet choked out, biting back tears. "Just an inside joke."

()

"We're now cruising at thirty thousand feet. Our destination of Los Angeles International Airport will be reached in approximately three hours. The seatbelt sign has been turned off. Please enjoy the flight."

The intercom clicked off, and Shawn immediately unbuckled himself, standing up and stretching. "I'm gonna look around a bit if nobody minds."

Every head in the cabin seemed to turn towards him. "Shawn, we have to keep track of you," said Flynn, getting up. "You can't just wander all over the place."

Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes. "Can I at least stand at the bottom of the stairs to get a bit of a view?"

Flynn seemed to think for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Stay where I can see you, though," he said, leaning against the side of the banister. Shawn gave a shrug and headed down the stairs.

"Carlton, your face is going to stay like that," Juliet said quietly when Shawn had disappeared.

"Why can't he just sit still for a few hours of his life?" Lassiter shot back, giving a huff. "What does he want, going down there? We've got all of first class; does he have to annoy everyone in coach to be satisfied?"

Juliet spared a glance over at Gus, and when she saw that he was engrossed in his iPod, she turned back to Lassiter. "Don't be so hard on him," she muttered. "You know what he's going through. Probably just wants some alone time to think. Where's the compassion you had last night?" she asked, giving him a smirk.

Lassiter stuttered in shock. "You, you heard that?"

"Neither of you know how to control the volume of your voices," Juliet said, chuckling. "Also, I kind of stood behind the door and spied on you." She grinned as he scowled and continued. "Just give him some breathing room. Let him have a little fun. And stop being so possessive."

"I am not being possessive!" he hissed at her, dropping his voice when he noticed Sanders looking over at them. "How the hell do you get the idea that I'm being possessive?"

"You haven't been less than five feet away from him since this morning."

"None of us have!"

"Yeah, but none of the rest of us are actively trying to be that close, except for the agents, and that's their job. It's not _your_ job to protect him, Carlton. This isn't your territory. It _is_ your job to calm down and relax so he can too." She leaned back into her seat and opened her book, effectively ending the conversation.

Lassiter turned away, glaring down at the book in front of him, words blurring together on the page. He couldn't concentrate; Juliet's words kept playing through his head. Possessive? _Possessive?_ What did she think she was talking about? He was never possessive of Shawn.

So what if he'd lost count of how many times he'd pinned Shawn against a wall to yell at him? So what if he actually felt a little proud now every time Shawn managed to solve a case? And it meant nothing that he'd purposefully hurried Shawn away from the pretty blond stewardess earlier. Shawn really had been holding up the line to get upstairs. At least, Lassiter thought he had been. Maybe.

Damn it, ever since Shawn Spencer had come into his life, it had been a lot more confusing.

()

Shawn sat on the bottom step of the spiral staircase, leaning forward a bit to glance into the coach area on his left. A few people were staring back; some were giving him glares, which he returned with friendly waves. _Guess these are the people I screwed out of first class_, he thought. Well, it was kind of dickish to do so, but Shawn had a feeling that if the people knew why he had done it, they might be more sympathetic. Except for that British guy giving him the evil eye.

He felt a presence next to him, and turned his head to see Tiffany squatting next to him. "Need anything?" she asked, giving him a smile. Shawn scooted over and patted the step, inviting her to join him. She glanced around, then sat down next to him, slipping off her high heels onto the plush carpet.

"Sorry, they're new and I'm breaking them in," she said, shrugging. "Takes time to adjust. So what did you do to get first class all to yourself? Are you really rich or something? Though so is Three G," she said, motioning towards a dark-skinned passenger in coach who was decked out in a black suit and surrounded by two men who were obviously bodyguards, "and he's pretty hard to surpass in fortune."

"Nah, I wish I was that rich. I could buy a pineapple plantation or something. I actually kind of witnessed a murder, and I'm going to be testifying in LA."

Tiffany gasped in amazement. "That's so cool! Could you, I mean, do you mind if I ask what happened?"

Shawn proceeded to relate his story to Tiffany for the next fifteen minutes. He may have exaggerated a little bit; he hadn't actually escaped the gunmen coming after him by leading them on a chase through the streets of the city. Still, Tiffany seemed to be pretty smart, and followed his story with a sense of humor, getting the gist of what had really happened.

"So is that dude up there like, your boyfriend?" she asked when he had finished. Shawn's eyes widened in surprised, and he laughed.

"Who, Gus? Nah. We do run a business together and have had our share of gay moments, but it's strictly a platonic relationship."

"Is Gus the guy who was scowling earlier?"

"What? No, that's Lassi-face."

"Oh, that's who I was talking about."

Shawn snorted this time, pinching the bridge of his nose as tears of laughter leaked out. "Lassi-face? My boyfriend? Lassiter would rather eat glass than have that type of thing with me."

"Are you sure? Cause he seemed really mad when you were flirting with me earlier." She grinned when he raised an eyebrow. "Don't think I didn't see what you were up to. But yeah, I think I didn't laugh because I didn't want his eyes to bulge any more than they were."

"Eh, he's harmless," Shawn said, leaning back slightly. "Give him some Scooby Snacks and he'll wag his tail and curl up in a ball." An image of Lassiter's head on a border collie's body suddenly popped into his head, and he had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing.

Tiffany giggled at his comment, and nodded. "Good, I wouldn't want to piss him off if he was your boyfriend. He seems…"

"Uptight? Stubborn? Scarily serious?"

"No," she said, laughing. "I was gonna say protective."

Shawn blinked in surprise. Lassi-face, protective of him? Though after the whole talk last night, did it really seem that weird?

"Speaking of boyfriends," Shawn said, deciding to shake off the slight lurch of his stomach by changing the subject, "do you have one?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," she said, blushing slightly. "I'm actually flying back to meet him; we're moving in together. Your flirting was really sweet though," she said, seeing his face droop slightly. "It made me feel really nice, especially after that jackass in 5C made me feel so crummy."

"Well, it was my pleasure to raise the spirits of such a lovely woman," he said, giving a little bow of his chest and waving his hand. "Glad to be of service."

"Oooo, I shouldn't have sat here so long, I'm supposed to be helping out!" she gasped suddenly, standing up and slipping her shoes back on. "Um, sorry, I have to go." Shawn gave her a nod of reassurance, and she smiled at him before moving back into coach.

Shawn lay back on the steps, glancing up to see Agent Flynn staring down at him. He gave the man a thumbs-down sign, and Flynn sent him an _oh well_ shrug back. Shawn sighed, fingering the carpet of the steps with his hand.

Tough luck about the stewardess. He supposed that once in a while he had to meet a flight attendant who wasn't a bachelorette (or bachelor). And since he didn't really feel like hitting up the blond steward he'd seen earlier (though he wouldn't have to worry about the 'gay or no?' question; that he was sure of), he didn't have a reason to be down here. So he jumped up, preparing to head back up the stairs.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and Shawn felt the plane jerk ever so slightly. The lights were already dimmed in coach, and a few people who had been sleeping woke up, looking around in a confused manner. _Turbulance?_, Shawn thought. And then the oxygen mask compartments opened.

What Shawn saw next, he would've never believed had he not seen it with his own eyes. The oxygen masks popped out, but they weren't the only things that fell from the compartment. Wrapped around the masks, and now, Shawn could see, crawling under the seats, were tens, maybe hundreds, of… snakes.


End file.
